Childhood Fantasies
by barefoot11
Summary: Alfred's plan of what he'll be when he grows up changes nearly every week, but this dream attracts Arthur's attention. ...A butterfly-catcher? Human names used, no real pairings


It began as a soft _pitter-patter_ of feet. Then those faded and large, unorganized _thumps_, _bangs_, and _crashes_ erupted. Those sounds should have alerted Arthur first, but he kept his priorities straight and continued scribbling on his papers. He filled in every line with words…

A slamming of a door rang through the house, and then the _pitter-patter_ of feet came again. Arthur became interested, but soon the footfalls died away, and so did his curiosity. He flipped a page, and skimmed over the articles upon it. The forms needed to be turned in soon, so he barely had any time to check upon anything else. He knew that turning it in on time would be easier if he finished it days before it was supposed to be turned it. And it would –

"Ah! Ah!"

Shrill, tiny shouts shattered the air, and Arthur's focus. He fumbled in surprise, dropping his pen and the ink scratched a line against the page. He cursed for a moment before rising. He yelled down the hallway, "What was that?!"

The screams continued, but they formed words, the closer they came to him. There was a frightened repetition of, "Ah! Ah! Ah!" and then an annoyed string of, "Give it back! Give it back!" Two little children came running in – one of them had a net obscuring his vision, and was running from the other, who was frantically chasing him. Once they reached the kitchen which Arthur was in, they began running in circles, neither of them changing their tactics.

"Hey! Hey! Hey!" Cautiously, Arthur followed the twins around the kitchen, until his larger strides finally overshadowed theirs. He scooped up the older of the two, Alfred, who began flailing in his arms. He kicked his legs, whined and said nothing that was coherent.

When Matthew realized that he wasn't being chased anymore, he quickly sat down at the place he was standing. He was able to cry freely, the butterfly net still keeping his head captive. He tried to release himself by prying at it with his fingers, but the material was tangled in his unruly hair and caused pain. He whined again.

"Nuh! Let me go, I gotta get it," Alfred screamed, reaching his arms out for his brother and still moving around haphazardly.

Arthur growled in irritation and demanded, "What do you want, Alfred?"

"My net!" He screeched.

At the mention of it, Matthew began tugging and crying even harder. "Get it off," he whimpered.

"Give it back!" Alfred responded. He halted in his flapping movements and looked up to his father-figure, who still held him. With an accusatory finger, he motioned to his twin. "He took my net!"

"No!" Matthew defended weakly, his hands on his head. "You hit me with it!"

Alfred gasped, in mock violation, like he had seen his Uncle Francis do. "But you didn't give it back!"

He cried, "It's stuck in my hair! I-It won't come o-out!" He pouted. "It h-hurts!"

Arthur placed Alfred on the counter, instantly bending in front of Matthew to assist him. It was stubborn, but luckily, he didn't need to get scissors, for after he sorted out a certain tangle, the net easily came off. He gave the shaken boy a reassuring kiss to the temple. "Go back and play, okay?" He patted his back when he stood.

Though still slightly miffed over the whole incident, Matthew relented and paddled off with only another whimper. His fingers still thread through his hair, as if making sure each strand was still intact.

So Arthur – holding a net in one hand and a fully exhausted expression – turned to Alfred.

Being spotted, Alfred instantly clasped his hands together and put them in his lap. He tried whistling a cheery tune, but he didn't know how to whistle yet, and it came out as a sputtering that landed drool down his shirt. He thought he sounded pretty convincing.

Arthur wasn't swayed. But he did pick the child up, and placed him back onto the tile floor. And when he handed him back the net, he asked, "What were you doing with this?"

With a carefree laugh, Alfred clasped the net's handle between his hands. He held it like a sword, and treated it like so. He began cutting through the air, and adding his own explosion noises, as if the butterflies would combust at touch. Again, he started running around in circles, completely forgetting Arthur and his question.

Arthur frowned. "Alfred," he repeated, "What were you doing with the net? Where did you find it?"

He still didn't get an answer right away. Alfred had to catch two more imaginary butterflies before he found it acceptable to answer. "Oh, England! I looked in your closet and I found it. Sorry if I made a mess, the boxes just wouldn't stop falling!" He didn't know why the other suddenly slapped his own face; didn't that hurt? But he kept talking. "And when I found it, I wanted to try it out on Mattie! 'Course, I guess his head's too big. He makes a stupid butterfly."

Arthur pulled out a chair to face the younger, and sat. When he did, he was just above eye-level to the child. He found it easier to created conversation like that. He heaved a sigh and asked, "Why the sudden interest in butterfly catching?"

Giggling, Alfred went over to Arthur, and had on a wide grin. He explained, while keeping his blue eyes trained on the other's. "Oh, oh! When I grow up, I'm going to be a professional butterfly-catcher!"

When Alfred didn't elaborate, Arthur prompted, "…And why is that?" He had to keep his patience in check around little ones.

Alfred continued smiling, undaunted. He reached up a hand to pat the area above Arthur's eyes twice, as if comforting it. "Well, when your eyebrows turn into butterflies, I'll catch them and give them back to you! So you don't have to worry!"

Torn between hitting his head against the table and scowling, Arthur just smiled meekly. "That's… great, Alfred. That's just… great."

"I'm going to go practice, 'kay?" And before waiting for confirmation, he ran off, planning on finding his brother again.

Arthur rubbed his eyebrows. They weren't that big… were they?

* * *

**A/N**: Teehee, love you Artie. 3

And sorry Mattie. x3

**R&R**~!


End file.
